Chapter III. Paradigmatic lexicology
The branch of stylistics thus named deals with the principles of stylistic description of lexical and phraseological units of language in abstraction from the context (or contexts) in which they function. This task presupposes establishing a general stylistic classification of words. To solve the problems arising, we must overcome certain basic difficulties.
1. Lexicology of units is expected to neglect contextual relations of the word, describing it as a self-sufficient phenomenon, which is inconsistent with its nature. As we know, the stylistic value of a word is the total of its distributions. Its analysis as an isolated unit is only feasible in so far as we consider its connotations to be definite and relatively unchangeable.
2. Another difficulty lies in polysemy and polyf unctionality of words. Various meanings of a polysemantic word used in varying functions have quite different connotations. Therefore what we usually call one word could be placed in several lexical classes at once. That is why to classify words as sound complexes irrespective of their meanings would be senseless: stylistic classification does not deal with the word as such (as it is presented in dictionaries), but only its varieties, each with a meaning of its own — the so-called 'lexical semantic variants', or LSV.
3. Besides, even the connotations of an isolated LSV are manifold; they have a complex of features, and it is impossible to say with anything like certainty which feature is dominant.
The traditional classification of the vocabulary to be found in handbooks on stylistics and lexicology are for the most part unsatisfactory, since their authors, copying or following one another, commit the same blunder: they intend their enumerations of word groups to be as comprehensive as possible, disregarding the incompatibility of the constituents, such as archaisms and euphemisms or barbarisms and bookish words. We shall return to the existing classifications later; now a few preliminaries on the English vocabulary at large.
All the immeasurable richness of the vocabulary of any civilized language cannot be memorized or even understood by an individual native speaker; it is only the most common words that are widely used in actual communication. A very essential part of the lexicon, its greater part in fact, belongs to special spheres of human intercourse. Nearly half a million words have been registered by the famous New English Dictionary of 13 volumes as belonging to the English language, but of course not all of them fully deserve the title of English words: many of them are never heard, or uttered, or written by the average Englishman.
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The fact that different words are of different importance for language users can be best seen if we recall certain statistics. It is possible, by
applying statistical methods, to find the most current words, moreover, to make known their frequency in speech. Such calculations have in fact been undertaken for the purpose of teaching foreigners: to find out what should be taught and learned first, what words ought to be included in primary handbooks of English.
The results of these calculations are astonishing if we believe George McKnight, whose name is already familiar to the reader. The scholar says (in his book English Words and Their Background) that exactly one-fourth of the task of expression in English (of actual linguistic performance) is fulfilled by nine words, namely by the words AND, BE, HAVE, IT, OF, THE, TO, WILL, YOU. To put it otherwise, the nine words enumerated are so often used that they comprise 25% of all the words actually used in the process of communication. These nine words with thirty-four others form half (50%) of what we hear or say. Here they are: ABOUT, ALL, AS, AT, BUT, CAN, COME, DAY, DEAR, FOUR, GET, GO, HEAR, HER, IF, IN, ME, MUCH, NOT, ON, ONE, SAY, SHE, SO, THAT, THESE, THEY, THIS, THOUGH, TIME, WE, WITH, WRITE, YOUR. Even though these estimates may have been exaggerated, the very high frequency of the words is obvious. On the other hand, such words as, for instance, statuesque, theurgy, viviparous are used extremely seldom.
It was explained in the introductory part of this book that indispensable words, those in use everywhere, are stylistically neutral. Words used only in special spheres are stylistically coloured. Thus, we must draw a line of demarcation, first of all, between neutral words and stylistically coloured ones.
But this division is too general and therefore insufficient. Evidently, we must divide the vocabulary into smaller groups. Here we come again to the problem of the existing classifications. More often than not, it is mentioned that stylistic distinctions are revealed by archaisms, bookish words, foreign words, euphemisms, etc.
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To be sure, words belonging to these groups reveal stylistic distinctions, yet these groups do not make a classification. A logically infallible classification is a set of classes which do not intersect: every item of the object classified can occupy only one section, i.e. belongs (or must belong) to only one class; it cannot belong to two or three classes simultaneously. If it does, the classification is fallacious. Besides, classes are always to be established on the same dividing principle (Lat. principium divisionis). For instance, if the dividing principle of a certain classification is people's age, we are at liberty to establish such classes as 'up to 18 years' (or 'up to 21 years'), 'from 19 to 25 years' (or 'from 22 to 27'), 'from 26 to 30' (or 'from 28 to 33'), and so on. But it would be absurd to include in this classification the class of' tall people', or' fair-haired people', or to change anything whatever except age boundaries.
In our particular case, saying that a word is archaic, we mean it is obsolete, no more in current use; the term 'bookish' informs us about the sphere in which the word mostly occurs; the label 'foreign' pertains to the origin of the word; 'euphemism' is a term of speech ethics. Each class has a foundation of its own. Just because of this a word can be bookish, and foreign, and euphemistic simultaneously. The word to perspire, for instance, is a bookish one, as compared with to sweat (cf.: Horses sweat, men perspire, but ladies only glow); at the same time it is a borrowed word (of Latin origin) and a euphemism.
Therefore we may state that the items (classes of words) discussed are stylistically different from one another, but it is wrong to try combining them in a general, common classification: each item belongs to a classification of its own, each class is opposed only to classes singled out on the same dividing principle, namely:
Since it is stylistically relevant (essential for stylistics) to distinguish between what is obsolete, i.e. practically dead, what is normal, habitual, unconditionally acceptable, and what is new, i.e. only being born, we can establish a system comprising three classes: l)archaisms; 2) current words of the epoch; 3) new creations, or neologisms, i.e. words that appeared recently, are still felt to be new and not yet accepted by all.
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As the origin of words affects their stylistic value, we may propose two classes differentiating foreign words from native ones.
Since the term 'euphemism' implies the social practice of replacing the tabooed words by words and phrases that seem less straightforward, milder, more harmless (or at least less offensive), we naturally compare these to their opposites — the so-called 'dysphemisms'.1
Finally, the problem of bookish words, which is more complicated. The term 'bookish' (encompassing a very wide range of stylistic distinctions) implies, in a most general way, the sphere of employment. The reader is aware of the futility of search for a finite number of spheres. We surely can, however, oppose bookish words to colloquial words — with neutral words in between, thus obtaining a conventional three-member system of classification.
Along with the four classes discussed, we could mention further classes usually treated in handbooks on lexicology or stylistics: professionalisms, dialect words, specialist terms, slang words, colloquial words, popular-words, vulgar words, poetic words, nonce-words. Like those discussed above, they are stylistically relevant, but the terms themselves do not disclose the stylistic value of each class, merely placing it in the corresponding sublanguage (except in case of nonce-words — see below). And yet stylistics is interested not merely in what sublanguage a linguistic unit belongs to, but in its general aesthetic value. Stylistics is expected to give recommendations as to the use of words: whether a word
suits the sphere of speech, or whether it is either too high-flown (and would be out of place in the text) or too coarse, too low to be used at all.
The stylistic classification, or stratification, of the vocabulary must take into account the social prestige of the word. The primary division of the vocabulary, as we already know, is into neutral words and words stylistically coloured. It should be noted here that all the classes of words mentioned above are coloured and cannot be neutral (the very fact that they bear special names — 'bookish', 'colloquial', 'poetic' and so on is evidence of it). And of course all such classes can differ, aesthetically, from the neutral part of the vocabulary in one of two ways: each of them is either more valuable or less valuable than the class of neutral units. There is no other way: not being neutral, they must be either better or worse. To show metaphorically these relations in space, we shall have to place words with positive connotations above the neutral layer, and those with negative connotations, below it:
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Positive (elevated)
Neutral
Negative (degraded)
Fig. 5
This differentiation has social grounding. 'Elevation' and 'degradation' do not exist by themselves, as self-sufficient characteristics, but as the result of evaluating at least three factors: the subject of speech, the character of the communicative sphere, and the participants of communication. The notions of elevation and degradation are correlative, in the sphere of morals, with the biblical concepts of good and evil; logically, they represent the opposition of the positive to the negative.
The three-member system 'elevated — neutral — degraded' illustrates the differentiation of the high medium, and low styles, well-known since ancient times. This is quite acceptable and theoretically irrefutable. At the same time we cannot help seeing its too general character: it makes no provision for any gradation of the elevated or degraded lexical units, yet there must be different degrees in both. Simple logical reasoning as well as actual analysis of words proves this assumption to be correct.
It appears feasible to consider that the number of 'degrees' of elevation or degradation is infinite, or at least indefinite. Theoretically, we may be sure that no two synonyms stand at the same level stylistically: one of them is either higher or lower, or stronger, or weaker, or implies
additional meanings. Taking, for instance, the nouns answer — reply — response — rejoinder — retort — return, we can state that the first word (answer) is undoubtedly neutral, whereas the rest of them more or less elevated; the last (return) is very rare; the last three imply a negative attitude to what has been asked (or proposed) by the interlocutor. Theoretically, we may assume that every synonym is necessarily, inevitably, by the very fact of its co-existence with its correlative, different from the latter stylistically (this idea, by the way, underlies the whole theory of the infinite number of sublanguages). And practically speaking, it is not always possible to give an unbiassed opinion upon the merits and demerits of a word (phrase, sentence, etc.).
Taking all this into account, we shall nevertheless try to establish a scheme, dividing both the superneutral (elevated) and subneutral (degraded) parts of the diagram into three gradations: minimal, medial, and maximal. What is proposed here is not exactly a classification of real facts, but rather an ethically- and aesthetically-oriented scale, a possibility, a frame, to be filled in with actualities.
Superneutral
(superior to
neutral)
Subneutral
(inferior to
neutral)
Maximal
Medial
Minimal
Neutral
Minimal
Medial
Maximal
Elevation
Degradation
Fig. 6
The subdivision of the upper and lower parts of the scheme into three gradations, or degrees, is based on analytical inductive premises. The minimal degree presupposes absence of purpose: the speaker does not deliberately select one word or another to achieve a stylistic effect he has in view — on the contrary, he never notices the word, he is not aware of its being used, he
merely takes what comes handy. It is only upon second thought that the user of the word is able to class it. The medial degree implies deliberate selection (a conscious act of choice), realization of the stylistic properties of the word by its user. The maximal degree is what we attribute to highly expressive words possessing either very special (uncommon) aesthetic value (superneutral words) or words inadmissible ethically (subneutral words).
Let us illustrate. Minimally elevated are slightly bookish words used automatically by cultivated speakers. The words prevail, activity, inherent are comprehensible, but not used actively by non-educated speakers.
To the medium class (expressively bookish words) the use of which betrays the user's propensity for being expressly elegant and rather high-flown: sagacity (= wisdom, cleverness), somnolent (= sleepy), expunge, expurgate (= strike out or wipe out parts of a text). The reader can easily feel the difference between this group of words and the previous one: the words prevail, activity, and the like are much more widely used than the representatives of the second group — somnolent or expurgate (which may be altogether unknown to people of little culture).
The maximum elevation can be found in words used in poetry and high
prose: recall the words adduced on p. 10: morn, sylvan, ne'ei --on the
whole in the so-called 'poetic diction'.
Obviously the borderlines (or borderlands, as shown in the first part of the book) are very vague, more imaginary than real, still the general idea of dividing elevated words into three layers seems feasible enough: there certainly is a difference between what is used habitually, what is used on purpose, and what is employed as an exception. But all the same we must admit that as soon as we come to actual analysis of the elevated layers of the vocabulary, serious difficulties will arise, since we do not know for sure which is habitual and which is not; still less do we know which is intentionally expressive and which just happens to be.
Much simpler appears the analogous division of the subneutral part of the vocabulary. At any rate it is easier theoretically: here, the divergence can be more explicitly formulated. Here also, just as is the case with elevated words, the minimal degradation remains unobserved in the act of speaking. With the second layer (medial) just the opposite is the case: words of this class are created and used exactly because the speaker and the hearer know they are the wrong words. One might say their value for their user consists in their linguistic status as lexical outlaws — illegitimate progeny of word-building, units banned by polite usage. And, lastly, the maximal degradation characterizes words (and expressions) rejected by the whole system of morals and ethics of the linguistic community (indecent words, the very lexical meanings of which make them unmentionable, or words with more or less acceptable meanings, but with such coarse associations as to make them vulgar).
Again, as previously, we shall have to admit the arbitrary character of this division, the impossibility of strict differentiation of linguistic units.
Stylistic individuality of each word or, in any case, multiplicity of the classes to which it might belong prevents us from making generalizations in stylistic lexicology. Yet just because the stylistic scale demonstrates only the general principle of the aesthetic differentiation of the vocabulary, it is devoid of national concreteness, and is probably acceptable for an elementary simplified description of the vocabulary of any highly developed language possessing an infinite number of sublingual lexicons.
Let us examine, in a very general manner, the correlation of the word-classes singled out by traditional lexicology with our stylistic scale.
Among them we can find classes of quite definite stylistic value. We shall only enumerate them here; a detailed analysis will be given further.
Poetic words constitute the highest level of the scale; every poetic word pertains to the uppermost part of the scheme; it demonstrates the maximum of aesthetic value.
Official words of business and legal correspondence as can be seen in the diagram, occupy the middle level of the upper part of our scheme.
Colloquial words demonstrate the minimal degree of stylistic degradation.
Jargon words as well as slang and nonce-words (see below) must be placed at the second (medial) level of the lower part of the scale.
Vulgar words occupy the lowest step of the lower part.
Thus it can be stated that the classes enumerated are more or less homogeneous from the stylistic viewpoint.
Much greater difficulties arise as soon as we begin to deal with other classes of words singled out in lexicological descriptions. The classes we enumerate further are heterogeneous stylistically: one is never sure what place in the scale they occupy.
Bookish words. The epithet 'bookish' implies a very wide sphere of communication. Words traditionally referred to as 'bookish' occupy, as a matter of fact, the whole of the upper part of the stylistic scale: some of them are only slightly above the neutral sphere; others belong to the medial sphere; many bookish words are excessively high-flown.
Archaic words, or archaisms are also stylistically heterogeneous. They are usually thought to pertain to the upper strata of the vocabulary. As a general view this opinion is correct, but only with reference to the lexical units which, though obsolete, are not completely out of use. A high-flown archaic word must be popular enough not to become quite a stranger to the modern linguistic perception; besides, its meaning, its denotation must not collide with its highly positive connotation. Thus, the well-known pronominal forms thou, thee, ye or the words like knight, hauberk,
main (= ocean), etc. are high-flown archaisms. This is, however, hardly the case with words practically unknown to the public at large: they may produce the opposite stylistic impression, that of degradation (for detailed treatment see below).
Neologisms, or new creations. In most cases, newly coined words are not easily accepted by the linguistic community due to its conservative attitude towards every innovation. Therefore, a neologism seems, to the majority of language users, a stranger, a newcomer, and hence a word of low stylistic value, although the intention of the speaker (writer) maybe quite the opposite. Obviously humorous are the so-called nonce-words (see below), i.e. words created by the speaker (writer) to meet the needs of the actual communicative situation. Their place is in the medial grade of the lower part of the scale.
Special terms. This word-class constitutes the actual majority of the lexical units of every modern language serving the needs of a highly developed science and technology. Suffice it to say that the vocabulary of chemistry is practically boundless (chemistry being only one branch of the immense information accumulated by humanity). It is a common prejudice of linguistics to consider specialist terms at large as allegedly devoid of stylistic colouring. The reader will have guessed that this current opinion is false. To be sure, such terms do not contain any emotional, subjective connotations, or at least they are supposed not to contain such connotations. At the same time there is no denying the fact of their aesthetic (and, hence, expressive) value as compared with neutral words. A term is always associated by a layman with socially prestigeous spheres; it expresses an idea which otherwise requires a circumlocutional description in a non-professional sphere; hence, it gives the layman a kind of intellectual satisfaction. It goes without saying that the stylistic function of terms varies in different types of speech. In special (professional) spheres the term performs no expressive or aesthetic function whatever. In non-professional spheres (imaginative prose, newspaper texts, everyday oral speech) popular terms are of the first (minimal) or the second (medial) degree of elevation. The use of special non-popular terms, unknown to the average speaker, shows a pretentious manner of speech, lack of taste or tact.
Professionalisms. The linguistic status of 'professional' words, i.e. those which replace some official terms of a profession is not quite definite either. On the one hand, they are used by professionals habitually, automatically, without a stylistic purpose: just because their use is an established custom of the profession. In this, they resemble colloquialisms. On the other hand, their creation is largely the result of emphatic protest against official technical terms and common literary words. The
latter peculiarity of professionalisms makes them resemble jargon words, or jargonisms (see below). The only difference between the two is that professionalisms are unofficial terms in a special field, while jargonisms are only created by and current among the people of a profession, yet their meanings pertain to everyday life, not to the professional sphere. Thus, sewing-machine used by soldiers instead of machine-gun is a professional expression, the name of a military object. On the contrary, the expression big gun that means 'an important person' only employs a popular military term gun, but the phrase itself has nothing in common with military affairs: it expresses a notion of everyday life. As it appeared in military circles and is current there, we refer it to soldiers' jargon.
There is also another viewpoint, in stylistic tradition. Both informal substitutes for special terms and term-like substitutes for non-terminological words and expressions are part of the jargon of the given profession. By professionalisms proper certain authors mean words and phrases 'betraying' professionals communicating with people outside their profession, or speaking on subjects which have nothing in common with their trade. These words and phrases are not necessarily substitutes for official terms: they may be real terms of the profession. The term 'professionalism' is thus a term of that stylistics which confines its field of investigation to poetry and (more often) imaginative prose. Here are a few examples of what researchers in belles lettres call 'professionalisms', e.g.: Val gave the Ford full rein (Galsworthy). The same personage promises to keep silent about what he is asked to: "Stable secret.'" (the reader acquainted with The Forsyte Saga remembers Val Dartie's passion for horseracing — hence the metaphors). Martin Eden, a sailor, says to his new acquaintance: "I'm like a navigator on a strange sea without chart or compass" (London).
Probably this treatment of professionalisms is more convenient: we shall follow it later in our discussion of jargons.
Barbarisms, or Foreign Words. They should not be confused with 'loanwords', or borrowed words in English. Words originally borrowed from a foreign language are usually assimilated into the native vocabulary, so as not to differ from its units in appearance or in sound. Their alien past is forgotten; often it is only a philologist that can tell their un-English origin. Such words are called 'denizens', i.e. words naturalized, words that long ago obtained all the rights of citizenship. Here is some jocular advice allegedly given to the students by a purist who fought against borrowed elements in English:
"Avoid using foreign lexical units! Employ terse, brief, easy native monosyllables!"
The learner with even a vague knowledge of historical lexicology (etymology) will undoubtedly have noticed that the adherent of the pu-
rity of English has not, himself, used a single native word in his ultra-patriotic admonition: each word, from first to last, was borrowed from French, or Latin and Greek (through French).
Along with denizens (the stylistic value of which, like that of native words, may be of various kinds), there are borrowed words called 'aliens', i.e. 'strangers': words whose foreign look, or foreign sound, or both, have been preserved, although they are widely used in English. They are mostly late borrowings from French (bouquet, billet-doux, rouge, garage, idee fixe), Italian (dolce-far-niente), or Latin (dixi, alter ego, etc.)- The words sputnik, perestroika, glasnost are known and felt to be Russian words, while bouquet or garage, though obviously French in origin, have become part of the English vocabulary.
To characterize various alien borrowings in one single formula is impossible. Much depends on the meaning of the word, on the function it performs in social life, on the language from which it came to English. The stylistic value of a French or Italian borrowing, pertaining to higher spheres of life, to music, theatre, art in general, is stylistically incomparable with that of borrowings from exotic languages, such as those of American Indians (words like squaw, moccasin, opossum).
The use of foreign words and foreign expressions in books of fiction may have various aims in view. In the following example the sentence in French merely characterizes the lingual behaviour of Fleur Forsyte, who is French on her mother's side:
"Why don't you like those cousins, Father?"
Soames lifted the corner of his lip.
"What made you think of that?"
uCela ce voit."
"That sees itself! What a way of putting it!" (Galsworthy)
But the French parting f ormula Au revoir used by Fleur when she takes her leave thus addressing Jon Forsyte has a special stylistic value. This expression is occasionally used in England even by those ignorant of French, and it has something exquisite, a tinge of elegance about it. It is stylistically 'higher' than the commonplace English good-bye. Compare the Italian ciao, bambina current among Russian youngsters a few years ago. The same tinge of elegance is felt in the French word chic used by Winifred Dartie, whose husband informs her of his intention to call their first-born child Publius Valerius:
She had been charmed. It was so chic. (Galsworthy)
We shall now return to some of the word-classes singled out above. Up till now we have merely mentioned them, providing them with a passing, superficial characterization. Certain classes, however, among those
briefly enumerated deserve a much more explicit analysis. Let us take superneutral (elevated) words first.
Archaic words. The term 'archaisms' (from the Greek archaios 'ancient') denotes words which are practically out of use in present-day language and are felt to be obsolete, recalling bygone eras.
One of the reasons why words disappear is the disappearance of their referents, i.e. the objects they denoted. Such archaisms are called 'material archaisms', or 'historical archaisms', such as yeoman, hauberk and the like.
Another reason is the ousting of the word in question by a synonym (very often, a loan word). Thus, the noun main has been replaced by ocean; the verb to deem, by to consider, etc.
The use of archaic words in fiction, for instance, in historical novels, serves to characterize the speech of the times, to reproduce its atmosphere, its couleur kistorique ('historical colour'). Numerous archaisms can be found in Walter Scott's novels (in the following examples the reader will find lexical archaisms, as well as archaic grammatical forms):
"Nay, we question you not," said the burgher; "although hark ye — I say, hark in your ear — my name is Pavilion."
"... methinks it might satisfy you that I am trustworthy."
"Prithee, do me so much favour, as to inquire after my astrologer, Martinys Galeotti, and send him hither to me presently."
"I will, without fail, my Liege," answered the jester, "and I wot well I shall find him at Dopplethur's." (Scott)
Archaization of the works of fiction does not mean complete reproduction of the speech of the past; it is effected by occasional use of archaic words and archaic forms.
More often than not, archaization is relative. So, in his description of twelfth century events, Walter Scott resorts to words which existed not in the twelfth, but in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries (the words nay, methinks, prithee, etc.). The use of twelfth century words is completely out of the question: the modern reader simply would not understand them. Still more conventional is the use of archaic words in the satirical novel, A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court, by Mark Twain, depicting the events of the fourth century A.D. We know that the English language did not exist at that time (Angles, Saxons, and Jutes invaded the British Isles at the beginning of the fifth century, in 410). King Arthur and his subjects spoke Celtic, not English; yet the couleur historique is created by the use of English archaisms (words of the sixteenth century).
A similar, though somewhat more complicated, function is performed by archaic words in the Old Curiosity Shop by Ch. Dickens. Numerous
archaisms in the speech of Trent, the owner of the shop, underline his attachment to antiquity.
Quite different is the function of archaisms in poetry as well as (strange as it may appear) in official documents. Archaisms are employed in poetry due to their stylistic colouring of elevation. No longer current in ordinary speech, they are associated by language users with the speech of remote eras; and it is well known that man is liable to view the past as more romantic than the times he lives in. Besides, we know by experience that archaic words belong to poetry; their traditional use in it imparts the colouring of elevation to them.
I saw thee weep — the big bright tear
Came o'er that eye of blue;
And then methought it did appear
A violet dropping dew... (Byron)
Behold her, single in the field,
Yon solitary Highland Lass! (Wordsworth)
The general function of archaisms in official forms of speech is the same as in poetry. In both, the stylistic purpose of their use is to rise above the ordinary matters of everyday life.
Stylistic colouring, however, is different in poetry and in documents. In both, it may be that of solemnity. The forms whereof or wherefore make both law acts and poems high-flown.
... in witness whereof we have caused this diploma to be signed... and our corporate seal to be hereto affixed... Men of England, wherefore plough For the lords who lay ye low? Wherefore weave with toil and care The rich robes your tyrants wear? (Shelley)
Yet archaisms used in poetry impart to the latter a certain emotional colouring, the colouring that clearly differentiates lyrical poems from legal (official) prose. This is especially felt in what is called 'poetic diction' (see below).
Bookish (learned) words constitute the overwhelming majority of elevated words.
The words thus called are used, as their name shows, in cultivated spheres of speech: in books or in such types of oral communication as public speeches, official negotiations, and so on. Bookish words are either formal (sometimes high-flown) synonyms of ordinary neutral words (cf. commence and begin, respond and answer, individual and man) or express notions which can only be rendered by means of descriptive word combinations in the neutral and the subneutral spheres. Thus the word hibernal means 'wintry', but the verb to hibernate has no word-for-word
analogy in the neutral sphere, and its meaning must be described: 'to spend the winter in a sleeping state (of animals)', or 'to spend the winter in a mild climate (of persons)'. Recall the famous story, The Cop and the Anthem, by O. Henry. The writer uses another bookish word of the same root, a derived adjective, to describe his miserable character's reflections concerning the approach of winter:
The hibernatorial ambitions of Soapy were not of the highest-Three months on the Island was what his soul craved. Bookish words are mostly (though not always) loan-words, Latin and Greek, but whatever their origin, their use is confined to the above-mentioned spheres. The impropriety of using learned words in everyday conversation, with reference to trivial subjects, was splendidly shown by Otto Jespersen (a famous Danish scholar of English) in the following funny story:
A young lady home from school was explaining: "Take, an egg," she said, "and make a perforation in the base and a corresponding one in the apex. Then apply the lips to the aperture, and by forcibly inhaling the breath the shell is entirely discharged of its contents." An old lady who was listening exclaimed: "It beats all how folks do things nowadays. When I was a gal they made a hole in each end and sucked."2
Other examples of neutral expressions and their bookish counterparts given by Jespersen:
A great crowd came to see — A vast concourse was assembled to witness.
Great fire — Disastrous conflagration.
Man fell — Individual was precipitated.
Sent for the doctor — Called into requisition the services of the physician.
Began his answer — Commenced his rejoinder.
A special stratum of bookish words is made up of words traditionally used in poetry ('poetic diction'). Quite a number of such words are never used outside this sphere. Here are a few of them: quoth ('said'), spouse ('wife', 'husband'), steed, courser, charger, barb ('horse'), sylvan ('woody'), etc.
Some of them are archaic: aught ('anything'), naught ('nothing'), eke ('also'; compare auch in German), whilom ('formerly'), albeit ('though').
Others are morphological variants of neutral words: oft ('of ten'), list ('listen'), even ('evening'), morn ('morning'), or their phonetic variants: o'er, ne'er ('over', 'never').
It should be noted that in modern poetry 'poetic diction' is scarcely ever used.
Subneutral words. Among the words below the neutral stratum we distinguish:
a) words used in informal speech only — colloquial words;
b) jargon words and slang, as well as individual creations (nonce-words);
c) vulgar words.
The groups enumerated here occupy different places in the general stylistic classification of the vocabulary given above.
The group of colloquial words (a) lies nearest to that of neutral words. In their use there is no special stylistic intention on the part of the speaker: in most cases the speaker is not aware of the fact that he uses words from below the neutral sphere, or, at any rate, he has no stylistic aim in view — he does not intend to be disparaging, or rude, or jocular in his manner of expressing his thoughts. He just uses words current in the colloquial sphere, but since they cannot be used in higher spheres, they are not neutral: they are subneutral, although quite close to the neutral ones.
It is the other way with the second group. Group (b) includes words which seem to have been created for deliberate stylistic degradation. When using jargon, slang, or nonce-words, the speaker knows that they are the 'wrong' words. He employs them in defiance of propriety. Their place is, therefore, still lower than that of colloquial words (see the scheme given on p. 56).
In the lowest place (c) are the vulgarisms, i.e. words which due to their offensive character or their indecency are inadmissible in a civilized community.
Colloquial words. They are words with a tinge of informality or familiarity about them. There is nothing ethically improper in their stylistic colouring, except that they cannot be used in formal speech. Colloquialisms include:
a) colloquial words proper (colloquial synonyms of neutral words): chap ('fellow'), chunk ('lump'), sniffy ('disdainful'), or such as have no one-word counterparts in the neutral or literary sphere: molly-coddle ('an effeminate man or boy'), drifter ('a person without a steady job'). To this group belong 'nursery' words: mummy ('mother'), dad ('father'), tummy ('stomach'), pussy ('she-cat'), gee-gee ('horse').
b) phonetic variants of neutral words: gaffer ('grandfather'), baccy ('tobacco'), feller ('fellow'); a special place is taken by phonetic contractions of auxiliary and modal verbs: shan't, won't, don't, doesn't, 've, 'd. 41, etc.
c) diminutives of neutral (or of colloquial) words: granny, daddy, lassie, piggy; especially diminutives of proper names: Bobby, Polly, Becky, Johnny, etc.
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d) colloquial meanings of polysemantic words; their primary meanings put them in the neutral sphere, while their figurative meanings pertain to the colloquial sphere. Thus, the word spoon when it denotes (as it usually does) the tool for ladling food (soup, cereal, etc.), is neutral, whereas the same word, when it was used with the meaning of 'man of low mentality' is a colloquialism. A hedgehog (animal) is a neutral word, yet it is a colloquial one with reference to an unmanageable person. Pretty ('good-looking') is neutral; pretty 'fairly' {pretty good, pretty quick) is colloquial.
e) most interjections belong to the colloquial sphere: gee!, eh?, well, why. This does not concern the interjection oh, which is a universal signal of emotion, used in both low and high spheres of communication.
Care should be taken to avoid confusing colloquial speech with the uncultivated, illiterate speech of uneducated people. Forms like we was, I goes, I corned, me (my) eyes, he is sorta mad, we should of seen him, he ain't coming are outside the standard language.
Jargon words. These appear in professional or social groups as informal, often humorous replacers of words that already exist in the neutral or superneutral sphere. Formal and even neutral words are viewed by jargon users (and creators) as 'holier-than-thou', pedantic, overcorrect, and unnecessarily high-flown. The use of jargon implies defiance, a kind of naughtiness in lingual behaviour.
Jargon words can be roughly subdivided into two groups. One of them consists of names of objects, phenomena, and processes characteristic of the given profession — not the real denominations, but rather nicknames, as opposed to the official terms used in this professional sphere.
The other group is made up of terms of the profession used to denote non-professional objects, phenomena, and processes.
Thus we may say that jargon words are either non-terminological, unofficial substitutes for professional terms (sometimes called 'professionalisms', especially when used outside the professional sphere — see above), or official terms misused deliberately, to express disrespect.
A few illustrations of the first group. In soldiers' jargon, the expression picture show is (or was) current, which has nothing to do with the cinema, but denotes a purely military concept for which there is an official word — the word battle. The well-known word machine-gun is replaced by sewing machine (the metaphorical reason — similarity of noise — is clear). The official expression killed in action is euphemistically described as put in a bag. Since an airman, a real one, can be called metaphorically a bird (though perhaps no one actually uses this denomination), a cadet pilot, not yet capable of flying a plane, is humorously called an egg. As can be seen, all these words referring to military matters are common lexical units, originally having nothing
to do with war. A curious example of the same kind is the phrase dog robber v/hich means 'orderly'. The phrase is an allusion to the fact that an orderly usually feeds on the remnants of his officer's meals, in this way preventing dogs from getting their lawful share.
Examplesof the second group of jargon words are: biggun which means 'an important person', GI ('Government Issue' — originally a stamp on the military uniform which came to denote metonymically the soldier who wears this uniform). The word dug-out in its primary sense is a military term; in soldiers' jargon it denotes a retired soldier returned to active service. (Most of the examples of soldiers' jargon have been taken from G. McKnight's English Words and Their Background.)
Every professional group has its own jargon. We distinguish students' jargon, musicians' jargon, lawyers' jargon, soldiers' jargon and so on.
Many jargon words come to be used outside the professional sphere in which they first appeared, thus becoming 'slang words' (on slang see next section). Very often it is impossible to say positively if this or that word belongs to the jargon of some group or to slang in general. See, for instance, such abbreviations as exam or math which are used not only by students or schoolchildren.
A peculiar place is occupied by cant, a secret lingo of the underworld — of thieves and robbers. To be more exact, the striving for secrecy was perhaps only the primary reason why it appeared. The present-day function is to serve as a sign of recognition: he who talks cant gives proof of being a professional criminal (and can therefore be trusted by other criminals).
Cant words are for the most part ordinary English words with transferred meanings. Thus the utterance Ain't a lifer, not him! Got a stretch in stir for pulling a leather up in Chi means: "He was not sentenced to imprisonment for life: he only has to serve a term in prison for having stolen a purse up in Chicago."
Numerous examples of cant can be found in Oliver Twist by Dickens as well as in The True History of a Little Ragamuffin by James Greenwood.
"Barkers for me, Barney," said Toby Crackpit. "Here they are," replied Barney, producing a pair of pistols... "All right!" replied Toby, stowing them away. "The persuaders?" "I've got 'em," replied Sikes. (Greenwood) (Persuader is a metonymical name for dagger.)
The origin of the word cant is uncertain. Etymologically it seems connected with the word chant (cf. Lat. cantare 'to sing') and probably implied at first the pleading tones of beggars' lamentations (compare the corresponding Russian expression блатная музыка, now preferably блатная феня).
Slang. Slang is part of the vocabulary consisting of commonly understood and widely used words and expressions of humorous or derogatory character — intentional substitutes for neutral or elevated words and expressions.
Scholars often confuse the terms (and the notions of) 'slang' and 'jargon'. In most cases the word jargon is not used at all. Instead, expressions like students' slang, soldiers' slang, etc. are employed (alongside the expression general slang). It seems preferable, however, to speak, as we do in the present book, about professional and social jargon, and apply the term 'slang' only to what is in common use, to what is employed under the circumstances by every English-speaking person, not only by students, or soldiers, or lawyers, or criminals. To be sure, many words and expressions which we now class as slang originally appeared in narrow professional groups, and they were at first jargon words and jargon expressions; but since they have gained wide currency, they must be considered as belonging to slang at large. Slang is, then, nothing but general jargon, a jargon universally spoken.
The psychological reason for its appearance and existence (exactly like that of jargon) is the striving for novelty of expression. This psychological and stylistic tendency is especially strong with the younger generation, with people who rebel against established convention in the speech of their elders. Why is a slang word used? As H. Bradley aptly remarks, it is used for the only reason that it is the wrong word, a substitution word. We use it, he remarks, just as we use a nickname instead of the real name of a person.3 As soon as a slang word, George McKnight says, comes to be used because of its own intrinsic merits, not because it is the wrong word and therefore a funny word, it ceases to be slang — it becomes a colloquial word, and later perhaps even an ordinary neutral word.4 Here are several instances of words which first appeared as slang, but are quite neutral today: skyscraper, cab, bus, taxi, movies, piano, phone, pub, flu,photo, mob, dandy.
As mentioned above, slang arises due to our propensity for replacing habitual old denominations by original expressive ones. And yet the growing popularity of every new creation prevents it from remaining fresh and impressive. What was felt as strikingly witty yesterday becomes dull and stale today, since everybody knows it and uses it. It is not mere chance that slang calls itself 'canned wit', i.e. humour preserved for everyone's use. Actual loss of novelty brings about constant change in slang: words come and go, appear and are replaced by new ones. Of course, old-timers and newcomers co-exist for a while, which makes slang very rich in synonyms. Lexicologists say there are at least 30 or 40 slang words to express such everyday notions as food or money. Here are a few of them:
FOOD: chuck, chow, grub, hash; MONEY: jack, tin. brass, oof, slippery stuff.
Various figures of speech, or, to be more exact, tropes (see chapter on semasiology) participate in slang formation.
UPPER STOREY ('head') - metaphor SKIRT ('girl') - metonymy KILLING ('astonishing') - hyperbole SOME ('excellent' or 'bad') - understatement CLEAR AS MUD - irony
In slang, we can find expressions originating in written speech: thus yours truly is used (orally) instead of the pronoun I or of its objective case form, me.
"Hold on, Arthur, my boy," he said attempting to mask his anxiety with facetious utterance. "This is too much at once for yours truly. Give me a chance to get my nerve. You know I didn't want to come..." (Martin Eden by Jack London )
A very peculiar graphic metaphor is the expression number one, a slang expression of nearly the same meaning as the previous: the figure 'one' (1) and the pronoun of the first person singular (J) look identical; besides, the idea of the first number implies priority to everybody else — hence the egoistic tinge in the meaning:
"Then I've a string of brothers — I'm the youngest — but they
never helped nobody. They've just knocked around over the world,
lookin' out for number one. The oldest died in India." (J. London)
"Take myself — I choose that example because after all, number
one is what I know most about."5
Certain slang words are mere distortions of standard words: cripes (instead of 'Christ!'). Abbreviation is also a widely used means of word-building in slang: math, exam, prof (originally jargon words current among students and schoolchildren, later understood and used by the public at large). Sometimes new words are just invented: shenanigans ('tricks', 'pranks').
Some of the English and American authors condemn the use of slang. They proclaim that slang is degradation of English. Of course, one should not use slang on official occasions, but it is impossible to prohibit it, just as it is impossible to stop the development of language.
Many slang words and slang expressions (phrases) are used by educated people, especially young ones. Michael Mont, the Tenth Baronet (A Modern Comedy by J. Galsworthy) shocks his father-in-law, Soames Forsyte, by using the words ripping, topping, corking, smell, some, A-I ('a-one') instead of the neutral words good, excellent. For illustration let us discuss an episode from The White Monkey by J. Galsworthy.
Soames asks if his son-in-law can find a job for a certain young man. "Has your young man had the bird?" inquires Michael (to have the bird means 'to be discharged').
Soames objects: "/ know nothing about a bird. His name is Butterfield; he wants a job."
Michael is willing to help: "I'll see him tonight and let you know what I can wangle."
Soames' reaction: "Good God! what jargon!..."
Further instances of slang in the speech of the same character:
1. "I say!" he said, " 'some' picture!"
"This is my real Goya," said Soames drily. "By George! He was swell..."
2. He thought her father had some "ripping" pictures... considered the name Fleur simply topping...
3. "His name was Swithin." "What a corking name!"
4. "How's the boy?" "A-I, sir."
The reader is expected to bear in mind the intentional character of stylistic degradation effected by slang words and phrases. The same is true, as we remember, with regard to jargon words and phrases. But here, a problem is exposed to our view at once: intentional and unintentional degradation, how can we tell them apart? To a degree, everything seems to be a matter of taste here, a matter of individual experience. The only efficient way of differentiating the two varieties of degradation (which implies separating slang or jargon words from colloquial ones) was suggested by I.V. Arnold and E.S. Aznaurova. This is explanatory transformation of word definitions.6
For instance, what is a fin in slang? Its primary (literal) meaning is 'плавник (рыбы)'. Its meaning as a slang word is 'hand'. The explanatory transformation reads: fin is not a kind of hand, but a humorous or contemptuous way of talking about a hand. Similarly: skirt is not a kind of girl, but a contemptuous way of talking about a girl; tootsie is not a kind of woman, but an endearing way of talking about a woman. Compare: chap is not a kind of man, but an informal way of talking about a man. The same attribute 'informal' (instead of humorous or contemptuous) will be used in the definitions of the colloquial words chunk, baccy, feller, etc. Of course, the question whether we are dealing with merely 'informal', or with 'familiar' or 'humorous', even derogatory manner can be more or less adequately answered only by native speakers.
Nonce-words. The English language is characterized by a comparatively greater freedom of coining new words on the basis of existing ones than other
languages, Russian for one. This circumstance gives rise to the extensive use in English of words invented by the speaker, words for the given occasion (ad hoc, in Latin) — such words as do not remain in the language after being created by analogy with "legitimate" words and, having served their one-time purpose, disappear completely (if in oral speech) or stay on as curiosities (if in books of fiction). They are called 'nonce-words'.
Being non-existent, unknown, yet comprehensible due to the situation or the context, they produce, as a rule, a humorous effect. The reason for this effect lies in the discrepancy between the outlaw status of the word and its formal correctness, the structural Tightness of its
appearance.
Thus, by analogy with the well-known word humanity a jocular word is formed: womanity. Since there are words like mouthful, spoonful, handful, the word balcony ful may be formed — a word which may never have been used any more since it appeared in a book by R. Chesterton: There was a balconyful of gentlemen....
In the formation of nonce-words all means of word-building are employed: derivation, composition, conversion. As for derivation, it is worth mentioning that nonce-words are formed not only with the help of productive affixes, but also by non-productive ones. The suffix -ish in the following instance seems to be less productive than the suffix -ness; in both cases, however, the humour is obvious:
"He had a clean-cravatish formality of manner and kitchen-pokerness of carriage.'YDicfeens,) More examples:
"She objected to George because he was George. It was, as it were, his essential Georgeness that offended her." (Wodehouse)
"Her nose was red and dew-droppy. She was too... Jack-in-the-boxy." (Aldington)
Jack-in-the-box: a toy figure that springs out of its box when opened.
Nonce-words, incidentally, contribute to brevity of speech. To nonce-words may also be referred word combinations and sentences used attributively. Recall the famous example from Three Men in a Boat by Jerome:
"There is a sort of 'oh-what-a-wicked-world-this-is-and-how-I-wish-I-could-do-something-to-make-it better-and-nobler' expression about Montmorency."
Of special significance is occasional conversion of the noun-verb type: "I'd chambermaid them if I had my way." (Priestley) "I didn't buy the piano to be sonatoed out of my own house." (Greenwood)
Dickens in his novel Hard Times puts in Mr. Bounderby's mouth very uncommon nonce-words made by conversion. Mrs. Sparsit [Bounderby's housekeeper] gives her account of events:
"I have heard him on such occasions produce sounds of a nature similar to what may be sometimes heard in Dutch clocks..."
"Well!" said the exasperated Bounderby. "While he was snoring, or choking, or Dutch-clocking, or something or other..." Another example (from the same episode): Bounderby:
"In the little safe in young Tom's closet, the safe for petty purposes, there was a hundred and fifty odd pounds." "A hundred and fifty-four, seven, one," said Bitzer. "Come!" retorted Bounderby... "let's have none of your interruptions. It's enough to be robbed when you're snoring because you're too comfortable, without being put right with your four seven ones. I didn't snore myself, when I was your age, let me tell you. I hadn't victuals enough to snore. And I didn't four seven one. Not if I knew it."
Vulgar words. This stylistically lowest group consists of words which are considered too offensive for polite usage.
Objectionable words may be divided into two groups: lexical vulgarisms and stylistic vulgarisms.
To the first group belong words expressing ideas considered unmentionable in civilized society. Indecencies are usually expressed, if need be, by various euphemistic substitutes, abbreviations, omissions (dashes), or by scientific (medical) terms. It is, so to speak, the lexical meaning of such words that is vulgar. Among lexical vulgarisms are various oaths. Quite unmentionable are the so-called 'four-letter words' (as chance would have it, practically every word denoting the most inimate spheres of human anatomy and physiology consists of four letters). It is worth mentioning that the Puritan morality in England once forbade the use of such words as seem to us quite harmless nowadays. The word damn, for one, was kept out of print until 1914. Present-day editions, on the contrary, do not shun even the worst four-letter words (see, for instance, Catcher in the Rye by J. D. Salinger).
The ousting of objectionable words by norms of ethics is inevitably followed by the creation of all sorts of substitutes. The word bloody is replaced by adjectives and participles beginning with the same sound combination: blooming, blasted, blessed, blamed, etc. It is clear that as soon as a substitute becomes generally known and accepted, it sheds its euphemistic garments and is considered nearly as vulgar as its predecessor.
The second group — stylistic vulgarisms — are words and phrases the lexical meanings of which have nothing indecent or, on the whole, improper about them. Their impropriety in civilized life is due solely to their stylistic value — to stylistic connotations expressing a derogatory attitude of the speaker towards the object of speech. This group consists of words that are considered by some scholars to be 'low slang' — such as old bean ('old man' — deprecatingly), smeller ('nose'), pay dirt ('money'), and the like.
Oaths and stylistic vulgarisms are frequent in affective colloquial speech. See, for instance, the following tirade of a character in the play Billy Liar by Waterhouse and Hall:
"And you stop that bloody game. I'm talking to you. You're bloody helpless. And you can start getting bloody well dressed before you come down in the morning."
If used too frequently, that is to say, habitually, vulgar words (or their euphemistic substitutes) lose their emotional quality: Every blessed fool was present...; You are so darn good-looking.
Phraseology and its stylistic use. What was said above concerning the vocabulary is more or less applicable to the English phraseology: set phrases possess certain properties of individual words.
Some of them are elevated: an earthly paradise; to breathe one's last; to fiddle while Rome burns; the sword of Damocles. Some are subneutral: to rain cats and dogs; to be in one's cups (= to be drunk); big bug ('important official'); small fry ('unimportant people').
Among the elevated phrases we can discern the same groups as among
the elevated words:
a) archaisms — the iron in one's soul ('permanent embitterment'); Mahomet's coffin ('between good and evil'); to play upon advantage ('to
swindle');
b) bookish phrases — to go to Canossa ('to submit'); the debt of nature ('death'); the knight of the quill ('writer'); gordian knot ('a complicated
problem');
c) foreign phrases — a propos de bottes ('unconnected with the preceding remark'); mot juste ('the exact word').
Subneutral phrases can also be divided into:
a) colloquial phrases — alive and kicking ('safe and sound'); a pretty kettle of fish ('muddle');
b) j argon phrases — a loss leader (' an article sold below cost to attract
customers');
c) old slang phrases — to be nuts about ('to be extremely fond of); to shoot one's grandmother ('to say a non-sensical or commonplace thing'); to keep in the pin ('to abstain from drinking'); to kick the bucket, to hop the twig ('to die').
Even what might be called neutral phrases produce a certain stylistic effect as opposed to their non-phrasal semantic equivalents (to complete absence of phrases in the whole text). Correct English and good English are most certainly not identical from the viewpoint of stylistics. Idioms and set expressions impart local colouring to the text; besides, they have not lost their metaphorical essence to the full extent as yet — hence, they are more expressive than unidiomatic statements.
Compare the following extracts containing set phrases with their 'translations' (equivalents) devoid of phraseology:
"Come on, Roy, let's go and shake the dust of this place for good..." (Aldridge)
Cf.... let us go and leave this place for ever.
If she could not have her way, and get Jon for good and all she felt like dying of privation. By hook or by crook she must and would get him! (Galsworthy)
Cf. If she could not act as she liked, and get Jon for herself for her whole life... By whatever means she must and would get him.
Absence of set phrases makes speech poor and in a way unnatural: something like a foreigner's English. On the other hand, excessive use of idioms offends the sense of the appropriate. Recall Soames Forsyte's apparent incomprehension of the slang phrase to have the bird used by his son-in-law, Mont (see above).
A very effective stylistic device often used by writers consists in intentionally violating the traditional norms of the use of set phrases (some authors call it 'breaking up of set expressions'7). The writer discloses the inner form of the phrase; he either pretends to understand the phrase literally (every word in its primary sense), or reminds the reader of the additional meanings of the components of which the idiom is made, or else inserts additional components (words), thus making the phrase more concrete and more vivid, as in the following example in which the phrase shifting from foot to foot is altered:
He had been standing there nearly two hours, shifting from foot to unaccustomed foot. (Galsworthy)
Often the key-words of well-known phrases are purposely replaced. Thus, unmasking the inhuman 'philosophy of facts' in his novel Hard Times, Dickens ironically exclaims Fact forbid! instead of God forbid!.
Mark Twain replaces the epithet in the expression The Golden Age, naming satirically his contemporary epoch The Gilded Age.
In the following instances the humorous treatment of the idioms consists in pretending to understand them literally:
"Then the hostler was told to give the horse his head, and his head being given him, he made a very unpleasant use of it: tossing it into the air with great disdain, and running into the parlour windows over the way..." (Dickens)
(To give the horse his head means 'to loosen the reins'.) "Soames bit his lip. "God knows!" he said. "She's always saying something," but he knew better than God." (Galsworthy) O. Henry writes that he had so many new schemes up his sleeve that he "had to wear kimonos to hold them".
Two examples in which one of the components of the idiom is taken at its face value as a separate word and treated accordingly, which provides a humorous effect:
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